


All I Know is I Don't Want to Stop

by definitelynotthatgirl



Category: Captain America (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Deepthroating, Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Content, Forced Orgasm, Hand Jobs, Light BDSM, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:48:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21544039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/definitelynotthatgirl/pseuds/definitelynotthatgirl
Summary: “Oh God..” Bucky had croaked out, voice wrecked, fucked out from the long minutes of Steve’s cock scraping the back of his throat, “God, please, stop.”Thing is, Bucky didn't want it to stop.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 12
Kudos: 427





	All I Know is I Don't Want to Stop

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! This is my first ever fic!  
> So please be kind and leave comments, suggestions are so welcome!  
> Apologies for any grammatical errors, enjoy!

It slipped out. Jesus _fucking_ Christ. It just fucking _slipped out_. Maybe it was the steady pressure of Steve’s cock against his insides, or the fact that Steve hadn’t let him come in the past hour, or that he was positioned on his knees with Steve’s hand pressing the back of his neck after he growled out a hasty _stay still and take it, Buck_ because Bucky refused to stay still and kept mucking up Steve’s rhythm by pushing his ass eagerly back on his cock, or maybe it was the barely enough friction and relief he got from the head of his cock scraping against the sheets, dirtying it up. Hell, for all he knew, it was all of those rolled into one. _Whatever_ it was, it lowered his inhibitions enough to let something like that slip. _Whatever_ the reason was, he didn’t _mean_ to say it out loud.

“Oh God..” Bucky had croaked out, voice wrecked, fucked out from the long minutes of Steve’s cock scraping the back of his throat, “God, please, _stop_.”

As the result of that, Steve froze. Of course he did. He was always so considerate, so thoughtful, so _nice_. Even when he had his dick ramming against Bucky’s prostate, forcefully milking drop after drop of pre come out of Bucky’s swollen member – head nearly flushed purple from holding out multiple orgasms while Steve was determined to fuck his brains out through his dick – Steve was always nice. Everyone thought that Captain America – the embodiment of all that is righteous and patriotic – must be a nice person, that it must come with the title he bore. But Steve was not nice because he shouldered the title and the shield and the skin tight spandex suit that came with it. No, even when Steve was that five foot nothing, 90 pounds, asthmatic spitfire back in 1943 – he was always nice. _A heart too big for someone so small_ , Bucky always told him then. Yet after the serum, after the war, after _losing Bucky_ ; his heart was still too big for the All-American Wet Dream that was his Stevie now.

His Stevie that – after the initial pause – started pulling out, moving away so _so_ slowly with apologies spewing out of his mouth like a mantra. Bucky groaned pitifully at the feeling of his hole gaping after the thorough fucking it received, he clenched and unclenched his hole at the cold empty feeling, trying to reel Steve’s retreating cock back in. All the while, Bucky tried to somehow gather his foggy syrupy thoughts together to tell Steve to j _ust stick it back in_ because yes, he did say stop, and yes, he meant it – but not in the way that Steve interpreted.

“Bucky, honey, _sweetheart_ I’m so sorry. Was that too rough? Too much?” a calming hand rubbed down his slippery sweaty back, trying to invoke as much comfort as possible, while his voice was anything but. High, panicked. Bucky didn’t blame him, of course. It had taken months before Bucky was even able to engage in intimate activities with Steve, something as small as cuddling on the sofa, after the Project Insight clusterfuck. Bucky, to his own dismay, only managed to whine out another fucked out sound from his throat, too dry to even form complete words now that he was no longer drooling out the side of his mouth from the sheer force of Steve drilling into him.

Bucky was flipped over, a hand came up to the side of his neck. _Measuring my pulse_ , Bucky thought. After about ten seconds, that same hand was joined by another to cup Bucky’s face softly, reverently, like how someone were to handle a fragile piece of china, too delicate, too fragile, breakable. Bucky would snort at that if he could. Because The Winter Soldier, _The Asset_ , is anything but breakable. He should know, Hydra certainly tried.

“Bucky, baby, please say something? Where does it hurt?” A thumb tracked down a single tear that escaped from the corner of his left eye as he blinked, trying to force his brain to go back online faster. He blinked again as concerned blue eyes came to focus. God, those eyes, Bucky could wax poetic about those eyes, bluer than a clear June day in Brooklyn. That was the first thing Bucky recalled after the incident on the highway. After hearing a name so alien said so softly by Steve, the first thing that came back was the color blue, then a pair of eyes so familiar, crinkled with smile – laughter – framed with the longest eyelashes Bucky had ever seen on a man. Then a name, _Steve_ , said in a voice he knew to be his but was too light, too full of life. Apparently having his brain put through a blender for 70 years was not enough to erase Steve. _His_ Steve. Memories of Steve lingered after that moment, more and more memories came back about their shared apartment, about bony shoulders and crooked spine, about long slender fingers dirty with charcoal. Then lips – pink, soft and sure and tasted like blood because Steve seemed to always have those back then.

Bucky couldn’t help but let his gaze wander to fully appreciate the beauty that was Steve Rogers. The soft, silky blond strands of his hair, now sticking up all over the place from Bucky’s insistent pulling as Steve ate him out to within an inch of his life – opening him up so slowly with soft licks and gentle fingers. The full, pink curves of his lips, swollen from being kissed and bitten during their make out session this afternoon which lead to Steve reminding him about one of Bucky’s fantasies they have yet to entertain.

 _You want to try that edging thing we saw last week, doll?_ Steve had said, using a tone so heated that Bucky had immediately fallen to his knees and started sucking Steve’s half-hard erection into a full mast just to get things along faster.

“Bucky,” Steve called out again, bringing Bucky into the present, “baby, you gotta work with me here.” He continued, voice laced with worry.

“I.. Don’t stop” Bucky finally managed to reply, eloquent as ever, in a hoarse voice.

“Bu- what?” Steve said, voice sounding equally relieved and confused. At that, Bucky knew that Steve would try and get him to talk this out before he even _considered_ continuing with their activities from before. He knew it was for the best and he knew that Steve did it out of compassion. Hell, his therapists (yes, plural, because not only did Bucky _need_ multiple therapists to cope with all the prodding the fucktards at Hydra had done, they now _have_ the money to pay for multiple therapists, and apparently having multiple therapists was a thing in the future) said the same thing.

_If you want something, Mr. Barnes, you should communicate them with your partner. Or whoever’s involved, in that case._

Steve, ever the sap, took it to heart and made Bucky communicate _everything_. Bucky equally loves and hates him for it.

Still, he signed audibly and tried to prop himself on his elbows in order to sit up a bit straighter and talk this out – only to have his flesh arm shook uncontrollably and sank back to the bed. Leaving Bucky half propped by his metal arm. He tried again, willing himself to pull out of the honey-infused space he was in before. When he succeeded, Steve had already rearranged himself to lie on his side facing Bucky, his hard cock nestled on the crook of Bucky’s waist, a bottle of water in his hand.

“Drink up,” he said simply, tipping the bottle to Bucky’s mouth while he had the other hand under his chin to help him drink. Bucky did, letting Steve control the pace of his drinking, tiny sips, no more than three at a time.

“Better?” He asked after Bucky had managed to down half of the bottle.

“Mhm” he replied briefly, giving Steve a reassuring smile. Steve replied the smile in kind, but the tightness in his eyes had yet to disappear. A few moments passed before Steve spoke again.

“So, can you tell me what happened? You said.. You said not to stop?” He said, confusion and uncertainty coloring his deep calming voice. Bucky took a deep breath, and then another, before answering.

“I want – wanted – you to keep going.” He said simply.

“But you said stop?” Steve replied, not judging, not doubting, just plain and simple curiosity, head tilted to the side like a puppy dog asking for more treats.

“I did,” Bucky looked down at Steve’s lips, trying to focus on watching it move.

“So, you want me to keep going,” He paused for a beat before “even though you said stop?”

“Yes, I.. I don’t know why I want it, Stevie, I just – I want it because I trust you, maybe? Because I know that you’d kill yourself before you do anything that will hurt me, or at least hurt me in a bad way.” He explained. Steve was quiet again and a sense of rejection began to fill Bucky. He kept his gaze down.

Contrary to popular belief (or at least the Republican Party), gay sex was not invented in the 21st century. Neither was BDSM. He and Steve had done plenty of those back in the 40s. Long before Steve could breathe right, he had known how to tie a proper knot to keep Bucky still. Had known exactly how many open handed slaps, belt strokes, and cane strikes Bucky could take to multiple parts of his body. Had known exactly how to wring orgasm after orgasm out of Bucky until he was left a panting, drooling, sobbing mess on the sheets – brain too fucked to know which way was up or if he needed a break or more of Steve’s dick rearranging his insides.

But this, asking for Steve to keep going even after Bucky explicitly said ‘stop’? Hell, even begged Steve to stop? Too fucked up. Too.. _wrong. That’s a fantasy we should never entertain, Buck_ he could almost hear Steve say it in his patented You’ve Disappointed Captain America voice.

Obviously Bucky knew rape was not a joke. He had spent countless hours getting lectured by Tony and Pepper about how it is not okay to be that aggressive on Twitter (when he first got introduced to Twitter, Bucky had gone on a Tweeting Spree to call out all the dumbasses on Twitter who thought that rape culture wasn’t a thing, or that vaccine was not a good thing, or that climate change wasn’t fucking real, Jesus), Bucky had thrown a tantrum at that which made him lose his phone privileges for a week. Rape happened to a lot of people and it’s fucked up. Bucky would wring anyone’s neck who said otherwise. Which was probably why he kept it to himself for so long.

But this, this felt right. Well, maybe not right – most of the things he had done with Steve would not be considered ‘right’ by some members of the society. It may not be right, but Bucky wanted it. God, he wanted it so badly his teeth were starting to hurt from gritting them so hard.

Then again, Steve has a say in this relationship, and Bucky would never push him to do anything he didn’t want to. Panicked, he tried to rectify the situation before it got even worse.

“Look, Steve, if – Aah!” Bucky let out a high pitched moan/scream combo the second Steve’s slick hand wrapped around his throbbing cock, effectively cutting off any and all thought about inane stuff like society and their expectations. Even with the weight of the conversation, his erection hadn’t soften one bit. He chanced a glance at Steve’s eyes and found that almost all the blue in his eyes has been swallowed by black. Oh. _Oh._

“So you want me to fuck you even though you begged me to stop? That it, baby?” Steve said, tone chiding, _humiliating,_ and fuck if that didn’t go straight to Bucky’s cock. Said member blurted out another stream of pre come from the purpling head. Steve’s hand moved at the same time. Slow. Deliberately slow. Bucky’s hip stuttered up, trying to speed up the process, only to have Steve placed another arm across his abdomen, effectively stilling his movements.

“Ye- Ah please fuck. Yes, Oh God. Oh Christ.” Replied Bucky, the fog that had briefly cleared out just moments ago started to sink back down, clouding his mind just from Steve’s careful and purposeful ministrations.

“I see. That’s how it is, huh, Buck? My Bucky is a slut.” Bucky felt his arms gave away as his eyes rolled back due to the filth spilling from Steve’s mouth. “It’s not enough that your cock’s already drooling all over our sheets, huh? Makin’ a mess from drooling all over the pillow like a bitch in heat,” at that Bucky let out an embarrassingly loud, needy whine from his throat, and Steve, the fucking asshole, stroked Bucky even slower albeit with a tighter grip.

“That it, sweetheart? Need me to make you cry for it, huh? Beg for it?” Steve said, voice rough with need. Bucky keened out at the intensity behind that voice, the promises it made.

SMACK

The slap whipped Bucky’s face to the side and, before he registered the pain, another one landed on the opposite cheek and Bucky let out a filthy _whorish_ moan as the pain bloomed across his cheek, his brain now slow and syrupy like molasses on a winter morning. _Yes, yes, yes, yes._

“Answer me, Buck.” Steve said, grip unforgiving, just on the wrong side of painful, pulling Bucky a little bit over the surface, making him just coherent enough to answer.

“Yeah, yes.. Oh! Yeah! Oh fuck, it _hurts_ ah!” Bucky said, head thrown back, teeth gritted to tamp down the force of his orgasm that was approaching quickly. Way too quickly.

Steve let go of his cock and Bucky _howled._ Making a noise so pained that it sounded like he got punched in the sternum and got a few of his ribs broken in the process.

“What a pain slut, look at you, Bucky.” Steve’s voice sounded so mean, so degrading, yet it contained no venom at all. _He enjoys it too_ , Bucky had half the mind to think. The rest of him was too busy cataloguing Steve’s movement on the bed. Before he knew it, Bucky’s legs were suddenly lifted onto strong shoulders. Spread open for Steve’s eyes to feast upon, Bucky blushed at the position, it left him so, so open. It also left him with no traction at all. No way to wiggle his hips or fuck back against Steve’s unyielding cock. Bucky’s cock, ever the traitor, twitched hard enough to make a smacking sound against his taut abdomen. Absently, he knew that he was mumbling something. Some strung up combined sentences about _God_ , _Steve_ , and _more_ , and several more curse words thrown in for good measure.

“Such a naughty whore, aren’t you Bucky?” Steve said in a low, growl-like voice. At this point, Bucky was convinced his brain must’ve melted out of his ear from the heat in Steve’s voice. “Don’t you remember?” Steve said, cock lining up with Bucky’s abused rim, teasing. One of his hands held Bucky’s ankles securely to keep it lifted. Bucky’s only response was to let out what sounded like pleas and Steve’s name over and over again. He can’t really be sure.

“Of course you don’t remember, you get so dumb when you’re fucked out like this, huh?” Steve said, rubbing the head of his cock back and forth on Bucky’s rim. Every time Steve’s cock passes, his hole would unconsciously clench and unclench as if trying to coax Steve’s cock inside. “I’ll help you remember, honey” Steve continued, tone amused and affectionate at the same time, “You’re supposed to come on my cock” and with one fast _deep_ roll of his hip, Steve’s buried to the hilt inside Bucky.

“God! Fuck!” was the only coherent word out of Bucky’s mouth before Steve started jack-hammering into him with brutal, precise thrusts, nailing Bucky’s prostate every time. Bucky was aware of someone making punched out noises, little guttural _uhn uhn uhn_.

Then he realized that it was probably him.

“Yeah, that’s what you need, right? My cock and nothing else?” Steve said between labored breaths that made him sound like he was having an asthma attack, like all those years, decades, ago. For all his bravado, Steve wasn’t doing golden either, his voice was so deep and heavy with need. He let out an animalistic growl after every thrust. “Need me to take care of you? That so, baby? God, your fucking _ass_ , Bucky. So good for me, doll.”

Steve leaned down, nearly folding Bucky in half in the process (Thank God for pilates), his mouth covering Bucky’s, giving him something that was too much tongue and teeth to be considered a kiss. Not that Bucky would be able to kiss back at this point. Mouth open to let out sounds of desperation and brain too jumbled to process anything but the pressure of Steve’s torso on his, the way his rim catches on Steve’s head at every thrust, the borderline painful pressure of Steve’s cock on his abused and swollen prostate. _Steve, Steve, Steve._

Then Steve, ever the little shit, did the unthinkable.

He pulled out all the way, rammed back into the hilt and rolled his hip to breach Bucky even _deeper_ , putting even _more_ pressure on Bucky’s prostate and said: “Come, _slut_.”

The rubber band of Bucky’s control, already stretched too thin for the past hour and a half, snapped and his vision went white as spurts of come dirtied up his abdomen and torso. Mouth open in a silent scream and hands – flesh and metal – fisted the sheets as he just kept on _fucking coming_.

“Oh, Oh God, fuck. Guh, yeah f- fuck!” Bucky let out between gasps of breath.

All the while, Steve fucked him through it, giving consistently deep and unforgiving thrusts against his prostate. The licks of oversensitivity a dull, but very real, ache as Steve’s rhythm faltered, just like always when he was close.

“God, honey, so good for me, coming on my cock like that. You gonna let me fill up that hole, Buck?” He said, taking Bucky’s cock in his hand and started stroking it. Bucky cried out another curse word at that, alarm bells ringing in his brain. _Too much, too soon_.

“Steeve,” he whined, dragging out the vowels, head tossed from side to side to try and comprehend the overwhelming sensations of pain and pleasure as his brain struggled to decide which one’s more dominant.

“You’re going to come again for me, Buck. Come now or you won’t come again for a week” Steve said, his hand a blur on Bucky’s cock, and started fucking him faster, Bucky didn’t know how that was even possible. Now that threat, it jerked Bucky back to semi-conciousness (because he wasn’t about to entertain the idea of being fully aware when Steve’s cock was actively trying to rearrange his insides). Bucky knew that Steve could, and would, absolutely do that – keeping Bucky from coming for an entire week. He’d done that before.

In the last ditch attempt to get himself to come, Bucky tried to focus on Steve’s movement, the fast unforgiving in and out movements, the tugging of his cock. Bucky could feel it, could feel how much Steve’s cock was twitching inside him as he delivered one deep hip-roll after another. Bucky looked down at his swollen, red, and abused cock – at the drying come painted across his torso. Bucky then chanced a gaze upwards, looking at Steve’s beautifully flushed face. A flush that had spread down to his neck and torso. At Steve’s pink, full lips trapped between his teeth. _God, so beautiful._

“Come on, Buck,” Steve said, hips stuttering “be _good_ for me, _baby boy_.”

_That did it._

Bucky screamed bloody murder at the ceiling before feeling another jet of come hit his own chin. Metal hand scrabbled to grab at Steve’s bicep as he struggled to keep his eyes open to witness Steve coming undone on top of him.

“That’s it, _oh Christ_. Gonna come baby, gonna fill you up so good,” another thrust, followed by a dirty roll of his hip, and another, and Steve finally came. Head ducked down to look Bucky in the eyes, lips caught between his teeth, and a deep groan emitted from deep within his chest.

At the feeling of the first spurt of come inside him, Bucky keened, a dopey smile spreading across his face from the warmth spreading inside him. Steve continued to fill him up with the last few jerky aborted thrusts of his hip to prolong his own orgasm. Bucky can now feel Steve’s come leaking out of his hole that has been fucked too loose, leaving a trail towards the small of his back.

Just because he can, Steve did another dirty roll of his hips, causing Bucky to emit a noise that was halfway between a sob and a whimper. Steve gave a hearty chuckle at the noise, followed by a laugh at Bucky’s answering glare. Ducking down, Steve licked all over Bucky’s sweaty neck, giving small bites and leaving bruises that’d fade within a few minutes. He continued until he reached Bucky’s ears and whispered with a hoarse, sex-addled voice.

“I’m not done with you yet, we’re going to talk,” he said, seizing Bucky by a firm grip on his jaw, hard enough to bruise, “and we’ll see how many orgasms it’d take for you to say stop, and actually mean it.”

_Oh._


End file.
